


Those Answers We Sought

by ImLuvinMyThesaurus



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets, Finally Updated, Hangover, Lies, Memories, One Night Stands, Rating Change Cause of Sexy Times, Revenge Sex, Sneaking Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImLuvinMyThesaurus/pseuds/ImLuvinMyThesaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie woke up to a hangover and a man wrapped around her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I took a bit of a break from posting new stories to work on some longer Bass/Charlie fanfics I'm writing. I'm pretty excited about them, but I don't want to post until I have at least half of a longer story written.
> 
> This takes place sometime after Revolution 2x09, when they've got a semi-stable resistance going.

Upon first waking, Charlie felt as if she'd been run over in a cattle stampede or hit by one of those anvils from the old cartoons she'd watched as a child, before the blackout. Her head and neck ached, she felt weighed down, her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, completely dry and cracking at the corners. Even her teeth ached. As she laid there, she realized the hurt wasn't just in her head, but she had the strange sensation of bruising and aches all down her body. She tried to move to assess her situation, only to realize she had been feeling weighted down because she _was_ weighted down by someone's arm clamped around her abdomen. Looking down, Charlie could tell it was a masculine arm, and very well defined. For the first time, she felt the rise and fall of a muscular chest behind her and soft breathing against her neck, goosepimpling the flesh beneath.

When she shifted in shock, her body slow to catch up with her mind, the action roused the man slightly, causing him to move against her, his morning erection pulsing fully aroused against her ass. The contact pulled a low rumble from his chest, vibrating against her back, as his hand slid up to cup one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple. Charlie had to bite her lip in order to quiet the moan that wanted to slip past her lips. He laid a few kisses against the curve of her neck, mumbling discontentedly under his breath, before stilling once more. She waited a couple beats to see if he'd awaken further, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated he'd settled back into slumber. Charlie was aching to find out whose bed she was in, more dread than anything else. He muttered quietly in a low, raspy voice as she managed to slowly twist herself to her back, so she could see who was behind her. Seeing the man's face was a shock and she had to slam her hand up against her mouth to stifle the gratingly loud noise which threatened to erupt and wake him.

Of all of the men in the world...Sebastian Monroe...she'd slept with Monroe.

It took her a few seconds to begin moving again, but she was even more desperate to keep him from waking up and finding her still there. She didn't even want to imagine that confrontation. It wouldn't matter that he was Miles (sometimes) best friend, in fact that just made it all worse. _Miles...her mother._ She grit her teeth in order to stomp out thoughts of what she'd overheard between the two of them the evening before, needing to focus on the current situation she was in with Monroe. He really was the last man in the entire remnant of America that she should have slept with...okay _not_ slept with--the sleeping had only come at the very end. She blushed as thoughts of the previous night flitted through her memory; from what she could remember, it had been a particularly active one.

Images from the night before starting racing through her head.

_Pulse slamming in her eardrums._

_Sweat and sex scenting the air._

_The obscene noises his cock made as he thrust inside her._

_Slick skin sliding against each other as they moved, eyes locked together in a dance all their own._

How drunk had she been?

She had slept with Monroe; it was only now sinking in. She had the bruised, heady feeling of being well-fucked, her muscles languid and center sore from pleasurable release, and knowing he was responsible for it...was confusing.

It was the booze she told herself, just the alcohol. 

If the pounding of her head and the aroma on her body was taken as evidence, Charlie would guess she had run to the nearest trough of whiskey and thrown herself in headfirst. It wasn't just liquor on her skin though. She smelled of a strange mixture of vanilla, the aforementioned whiskey, sweat, sex, and whatever soap it was Monroe used these days. Charlie could literally smell Monroe and their sex on her body. And that realization, combined with his arm around her and his very prominent erection burrowing into her side, were creating some very interesting sensations between her legs.

She needed to get out of here...like yesterday...before she did something stupid like giving into the temptation to turn over and flatten the man to the mattress, waking him up by riding his cock to completion. Charlie bit her lip against the small whimper that wanted to escape at that idea. Yeah, she needed to take the advice Maggie had given for scenarios like this: make like a baby and head out first.

If she was fortunate, Charlie would get out of the room without waking him. If she was really lucky (and ignored that inner dissenting voice), he wouldn't remember what had happened at all. He had been drinking long before she'd shown up in the bar, so maybe it would just be a lost night for him. However, karma had not been kind to her in the last couple years, so she wouldn't be holding her breath.

Charlie slowly starting edging away, moving at a snail's pace in order to avoid waking him up and the unpleasant confrontation that would inevitably follow. She listened for the slightest change in his breathing, stopping her motion anytime he shifted or mumbled in his sleep. It was slow going, trying to keep the bed from moving under her weight, as she finally edged out from beneath his arm, pushing the pillow underneath it. She did not even want to imagine the level of awkward that would occur if he woke up.

Finally, she was able to slide to the edge of the bed and stand up, albeit slowly, balance uneven at first as a wave of vertigo washed over her. She was sore between her legs, not to mention very sticky. Choosing to avoid thinking about the reasons behind it, she used the edge of the sheet as a wipe, nerves jumbling at the contact of fabric on her still too sensitive feminine tissues. She had to keep her mind set on getting out of here, lest she be inundated with the memories. Spotting her clothes, she quietly gathered them, locating her bra underneath his pants and belt. As much as she looked, Charlie couldn't find her underwear, and she shrugged, leaving them as a loss. Pulling her pants up her legs, she stopped at the sight of bruises vividly painted across her thighs and hips--his fingerprints. There was a mirror across the room and shifting to look, she nearly gasped at her reflection. Her hair was tousled, lips bruised, hickeys marred the length of her throat, and beard-burn scalded her skin pink. There was a bite mark on her shoulder, her nipples were tinted and inflamed, and bruises stood out from the waist down and along her arms and wrists.

She was the very essence of debauched.

_Mouth laving and nipping at her nipples until she begged him to stop, sensations twisting between pleasure and pain._

_A punishing grip on her hips as he fucked her from behind, rubbing stubble along her spine._

_Head tipped back as his mouth latched onto the curve of her neck, sucking bruises into the soft skin._

_Fingers tangling in her hair, holding her still for a biting kiss._

Shaking her head, she began to hurry her dressing, finding herself torn between her instinct to flee and her longing to stay.

Once she was somewhat presentable, Charlie took one last look around the room to see if she'd left anything lying about, other than her pack and coat. There was nothing. She bit her lip as her eyes wandered around the room, settling onto the man in the bed once more, knowing it was a stall tactic. She should leave, needed to leave, but watching him so unguarded, vulnerable really, was too fascinating by far.

Looking at him sleeping, he looked like a boy with his curls against the pillow, wrinkles smoothed out with sleep. Charlie couldn't help the half-smile curving her lips as she compared him now to the man from the night before, and to the madman of the Monroe Republic. He almost seemed an entirely new person. In many ways he acted as one. She knew he wanted redemption, forgiveness, and family. There was so much darkness inside him still...but, if he could change...if she could...

Chewing the inside of her cheek harshly, she called herself 10 kinds of an idiot for that train of thought.

Bass shifted in the bed, wrenching the sheet down with his movement. He hadn't gotten off scot-free from their encounter either; she could see that now. His hair was a wild tangle and his mouth looked just as bruised as hers did. She could see gouges from her nails along his shoulders, as well as trailing, red scratch marks on his biceps and pecs, and she made out three separate bite marks along his neck, shoulder, and chest. Blushing deeply, Charlie was shocked at the level of her abandonment.

_Hand clasping his chin, stilling his face for her bruising, nipping kiss._

_Biting the side of his neck as she came with his fingers buried in her pussy and her nails embedded in his chest._

_Her fingers tunneling through his curls, forehead against his, gazes meshed, as she sat astride him rocking on his cock._

_Sinking her nails into his ass, moaning his name as she orgasmed once more._

Charlie had never been that uninhibited with a man before. She had completely let go. In the past, with her few lovers, she had always kept a reign on things, never letting it get too out of control. Having been taught by Maggie that a woman needed to be careful no matter the scenario, she had always stayed a touch removed during sex, never fully trusting her partners.

Not last night though.

Last night she had given Monroe every inch of herself, had held nothing back from him, hadn't wanted to hold anything back from him. Charlie had laid herself bare to him, completely open. And from what she remembered, the way he had looked at her constantly while buried as deeply as he could get in her body...he'd done the same. The intensity between them had been nearly frightening.

She had to get out of here.

Glancing around the room hurriedly, her actions taking on a panicked tint, she slipped her shoes on, wound her coat about her waist, and grabbed her pack. Hefting it over her shoulders, she made her way to the door. Easing it open quietly, she couldn't resist taking one last look at his face before leaving the room. He had moved again, allowing her a full view of his face and chest. Memories of Bass cuddling her against him and listening to his heartbeat in between bouts of sex edged out of the grayness of her hangover. She had felt safe with him. God, was she stupid to be thinking this way? As she walked down the hallway, she berated herself, but her heart wasn't in it.

Leaving the rooming house behind, Charlie forced herself to accept that Bass had made her feel secure, protected. It was strange, it made no sense, but when she and Bass were fucking, she never once felt that he was a threat to her. In fact, several times in between the bouts of rough, desperate sex, he had been gentle with her, told her repeatedly how beautiful she was. He'd always held her afterwards, somehow knowing she needed that human connection just as much as he himself did.

There was another house in the area they were using as a safe house. She'd head there and figure out what she was going to do next. Charlie just knew she couldn't stay in the rooming house another moment, especially if he was there. She wasn't a good enough actress to cover up her emotions over the previous night; all her confusion would be displayed openly for everyone to see.

Besides, this would be the first place Miles and Rachel would look for her, knowing she had been scouting it out yesterday evening (that it was the only place to stay in town would factor in as well), and she couldn't deal with them yet.

So, safe house it was.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Closing her eyes didn't help. Memories of what she and Bass had done the night before tattooed across the back of her eyelids. For a man his age, he had amazing stamina. And then Charlie was cursing herself for acknowledging it, however true it was. He'd gone for hours, switching positions easily and quick to hardness, he had been downright insatiable. As had she.

_Fingers tracing the line of his abdominal muscles as he moved._

_Calloused hands encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist._

_His voice, a hot whisper in her ear, telling her how tight she was around his dick._

_Stickiness from his come staining her thighs and matting the curls between them._

Pushing off the bed, Charlie walked to the nearest wall, collapsing back against it, letting gravity take her, and sliding down to rest on the shabby carpet. She pulled her knees up to her chest and lowered her forehead to rest against her folded legs, trying to hide in the worn denim. Her nerves were jittery, raw, and she could feel the wetness pooling heavy at her center. Charlie closed her eyes, but that just made it worse, the memories blazing across the backs of her eyelids.

_Hands bruising her sides as he held her beneath him, forcing her to take the full measure of every thrust of his hips._

_The hoarse moans she released every time he hit her cervix_

_Legs cramping from the new position over his shoulders as he slammed into her from above._

_The low rasp of his voice growling the 'Charlotte' into her ear as he came deep inside her._

She whimpered softly, as her hands slammed into her temples, attempting to eradicate the images from sheer pressure alone. If she could just push hard enough, the images would flatten and cease to exist, snuffed out, destroyed by willpower alone. Unfortunately, that's not how the mind worked, these memories would follow her for the rest of her life.

_Hand wrapping in her hair, yanking her up, back against his chest._

_Kneading her breasts until the feeling verged on pain._

_Forcing her head to the side, swallowing her moans with his lips, and filling her mouth with his tongue._

_Fingers tracing down her stomach to pinch at her clit, as he forced her exhausted body to another climax._

Why, why had she done it--why did she let that man take her to bed, let him inside of her? Why had she felt such need when she was with him, felt so secure in his arms, and why had she bared her emotions so fully to him? Something she had never come close to wanting or allowing with any of the other guys she'd been involved with.

_Face buried in her pussy, sucking her clit until it hurt, eyes greedily locked on her face._

_On her knees sucking his cock into her mouth, as he told her how beautiful she looked with her lips wrapped around him._

_The wild look in his eyes before he spilled himself across her breasts, groaning her name._

_Falling to his knees before her, cradling her to his chest as he ran soothing circles on her back._

Sighing, Charlie looked up, taking in the measure of the room; she knew why last night had happened.

It was about Miles and to a lesser extent, her mother. As most things were. They had wanted to hurt them anyway they could, so they picked the most destructive method they could come up with, drunk as they were. They each had their own reasons. For Bass it was because Miles had lied about knowing the location of Bass's son and the man had nearly killed Miles because of it. Charlie couldn't really blame Bass for it and she had been the only thing that had been able to pull them apart. Miles wouldn't hurt her and for some strange reason, Bass was disinclined to cause her pain either. She hadn't thought too much about it at the time, but as she looked back at their encounters, in particular their recent scrapes with Patriots, he'd saved her life several times, even when there was nothing in it for him, even when it meant putting himself at risk.

The night before, she had dropped her pack at their headquarters and then tracked Bass down, thinking he might cause some trouble after his fight with Miles. Charlie had found him drinking in the pub and had tried to talk to him. He hadn't been interested and told her his demons and history were not a place she wanted to go. That he hated Miles so much in that moment, it wouldn't be good for the man's niece to be around him. So she'd left to get Miles, thinking he needed to come and talk Monroe down. She'd had no idea she'd be back in the pub a mere 20 minutes later.

Everything had fallen apart when she'd reached the house they were staying in. For Charlie, her issues with Miles (her mother too if she was being truthful) had happened when some of the history between Miles and Rachel had come out when she'd overheard them talking about their affair and her captivity. She'd come home earlier then they had expected, so they hadn't bothered to check their conversation. Charlie had been shocked to learn it was Miles, not Monroe, who had ordered her father to join them, but instead her mother had made the choice to give herself up to him, to leave her family. She listened as Miles apologized for taking her from her kids, hurting her, _torturing_ her while she was with him. And then her mother forgave him and kissed him.

Rachel _kissed_ him. Her uncle, the man who had tortured her mother and taken her mother from her husband and children. No, that last part wasn't right, the man her mother had _chosen_ to join. Charlie remembered the day her mother had left them like it was yesterday. After she was gone, Dad, Danny, and her had managed to get away from the militia, hiding in the shadows of the forest, and sneaking behind their lines. They'd never been found again until that awful day her Dad had been shot and Danny had been kidnapped. Why hadn't their mother simply gone with them when they ran? They could have made it together--they _had_ made it without her. Had she actually _wanted_ to turn herself into Miles? Thought she alone could save him somehow?

The very thought made her sick. She knew she was probably jumping to conclusions without all the facts (which was the state of confusion Miles and her mother obviously preferred her to remain in), but the sting of betrayal was coloring her rationality.

Charlie had been so angry, she had stepped out from behind the door loudly, watching as her mother and uncle quickly tried to extricate themselves from their embrace. She hadn't said anything, just stood there, while they asked how much she'd heard, that she didn't understand, on and on. The entire time she didn't speak, simply looked at them. Finally, she turned on her heel and left the room, grabbing her still loaded pack from the bedroom she had planned on using for the night, shouldering it as she turned into the hallway, hitting the steps at a run. She could hear their voices calling her back, but didn't stop, reaching the screen door and batting it open, to get to the freedom of the porch. She took one look back at the house where she could hear Rachel and Miles clambering down the steps and the darkness outside their temporary headquarters. Like a shot, she was down the porch steps out into the dark.

As she ran from the house, their voices hollering from behind, her eyes had welled with tears, which she had blinked back repeatedly, refusing to let them fall. So much they had never bothered to tell her. Everyone around her knew what was going on, God she thought with new eyes, even her Grandfather knew about it, but no one ever bothered to explain it to her. It was like some secret in the room only the grown-ups were privy to, information not to be shared with any children present. How long had this been going on? Fuck, her poor father--had he been duped by his wife and brother while alive?

Alec had been right, when he'd told her to ask Miles what he'd done to her mother. And she had just let it go, deciding it couldn't be anything that bad. She was such a trusting idiot!

No wonder Miles had thought she was naive.

Charlie hadn't known where she was headed, only blindly running to put as much distance between herself and them as possible. Their voices had faded by that point, but she hadn't slowed down, not until she'd made it to the outskirts of the small town they'd used to resupply earlier in the day. She'd slackened her pace then, falling onto a cracked stoop outside an abandoned dance studio. As she caught her breath, she eyed up her surroundings, caution returning. No one was about, the only noise came from the bar a couple blocks down the street from her. The Bar. Monroe was there.

Monroe.

The shadows of a plan started to form as she walked towards the pub, her anguish transmuting into anger, a need to hurt Miles and her Mom as much as she was hurting; she'd need plenty of booze for this.

When she had gone into the pub and seen Monroe drinking in a dark corner, Charlie had made her way over to him. As if sensing her presence, his face had lifted and their eyes had met. They'd locked gazes and the bleakness she was feeling found an ally in him. She'd been surprised by the need and desperation she felt. He'd read something on her face, because with a tilt of his head, he beckoned her over, interest making his eyes glitter. That one gesture had sealed her fate and the surge of heat that accompanied it had governed her actions for the rest of the evening.

Charlie had seated herself next to him, as he knowingly poured her a glass of whiskey. She opened with battle tactics as her reason for seeking him out but that was just a farce, he knew it, and she switched rather quickly. They fell into verbal sparring as it was easier and it allowed her to order her thoughts. He'd seemed to realize this and permitted it, waiting for the truth to eventually start spilling out. It wasn't until the second bottle that she'd admitted why she was there, what she'd overheard. After that, the floodgates had opened and Charlie had settled into ranting about Miles and her mother with the man. Monroe had joined in, angry with Miles over his son and Rachel over hypocrisy. By the time they'd vented their spleens on anger at the absent Matheson duo, they'd been drunk enough for the flirting to start. And they hadn't stopped there. Another bottle was opened for the round of daring and outright innuendo. Finally, they flat out propositioned each other and the two of them had been out of the bar 10 seconds later on their way to his room.

So, Charlie had fucked a monster.

She cringed at that, knowing it wasn't precisely fair to call the man a monster anymore. She'd seen him emotional. After he found out Miles had lied about knowing where his son was, she'd seen the tears he never allowed to spill, and the self-loathing on his face. When she'd stopped to check on him before finding out about Miles and Rachel, he'd told her there was no place for her with him, warning her away, and he'd seemed almost saddened by it. He was too angry at Miles to censor himself and she should run. Which is exactly what she had done, well, she'd walked, fast. There'd been something in his eyes that worried her, so she'd gone to warn Miles and the rest was history. Less than 20 minutes was all it took to put her on the same level as Monroe. When she'd gotten back to the pub, he'd taken one look at her face and just known that something had happened in the short time frame she'd been gone. Monroe had pushed out the chair next to him and grabbed another glass, filling it to the brim for her. And even through his own storm of emotional trauma, he'd been there for her all evening.

So, it had been about Miles. At least it had started that way. Somewhere in the middle it all changed. It became a competition of sorts, to see which of them would break first. Neither of them had wanted to give in to the other. Finally, when anger and competitiveness had deserted them, all that was left were two lonely, despairing people finding solace the only way they knew how at the moment. Their emotions had come through in the desperate way they'd wrapped around each other. They'd sought comfort by fucking themselves into exhaustion, until numbness took them and they could collapse into the oblivion of sleep, content in the arms of someone who understood.

When she'd woken up that morning with his arm wrapped around her waist, she'd been stunned by what had happened between them. She'd managed to get out of the room without waking him and had hightailed it out of town to the nearest safehouse she knew of. Charlie was torn about how she felt, didn't know if she ever wanted to see Sebastian Monroe again, but knew she'd have to face up to the man eventually. It was inevitable, they were fighting the patriots together after all.

And as angry as they both were, neither of them would leave, because without this war they were waging, what else did they have?

Charlie didn't know what would happen when she next ran into Miles and her mother. The anger wasn't subsiding and she knew it wouldn't be good for any of their relationships to speak with them before she could control it. But the problem at present, was she didn't want to deal with her anger; she wanted to stay angry. At this point, she just didn't know if she wanted to deal with them at all anymore, or at least not anytime soon. Charlie figured that would pass in time. She hoped.

She went into the bathroom to splash her face with water she poured from an old cracked jug. She'd bathed when she got back here, eager to try and wash away last night's evidence from her skin, but she knew it wouldn't work. Memories from the previous night kept hitting her, flooding her with arousal. Charlie pondered whether to have another bath, as her panties were soaked again, and she needed to cool down. Maybe she'd hunt for some dinner first, before it got too late, and then she'd have another wash.

Sighing, she dried her face, hands falling to the counter, as she inspected the grains in the wood. There was no getting away from it, as much as she wanted to forget (or thought she _should_ want to forget) what had happened between them, Charlie knew she never would. Sleeping with Sebastian Monroe had been amazing. Unexpectedly, what came after the sex had been just as good. Afterwards, the quiet solitude, security, and acceptance she had found in his arms had been a shelter for her. All things aside, if it was just the experience itself, she had never had its equal.

_Laying against his chest, his arms securely around her._

_His cock still semi-hard buried inside her._

_Liquid slowly cascading out to coat her vulva in their combined juices._

_Soft kisses laid to her forehead, as she listened to his heart pulse under her ear._

But it couldn't happen again, she thought as she made her way out of the bathroom to sit in the corner chair. There was something between them, Charlie knew this, but she didn't think it was healthy, and an electrical spark, anger, and sexual chemistry alone couldn't make a relationship work. Could it? And then she was rolling her eyes at herself. A relationship? More like fucking. He wouldn't want anything more from her either, she figured, thoughts bittersweet. Charlie had seen the type of women Monroe spent time with, and she was not in their league. _Even if most of them were only a few years older than her, prostitutes by trade, and wearing enough face paint for three clowns._ It wasn't going to happen. 

So, why was this even bothering her?

She heard a knock on her door and sighed, ignoring it. She was tired and in no fit state to converse or socialize with anyone. All she wanted was to try and forget the night before and move on with life to the best of her ability. The knock came again, and Charlie nearly growled in frustration, deciding it was best to just deal with the person. Slowly, she got up and padded across the room to answer it, sword at the ready. Pulling it open, she wanted to kill herself for the stupidity of not checking the peephole. Standing on her doorstep, braced against the frame, was none other than Monroe himself, eyes dark, mouth grim. He looked just as foreboding as he had the night before, his eyes locked onto hers.

Charlie wasn't ready for this...not ready to talk to him, not ready to see him, and definitely not ready for the bolt of lust she felt at his nearness. She didn't know if she'd ever be ready to deal with Sebastian Monroe.

But as usual, he didn't give her much of a choice when it came to sharing space with his person.

Before she could speak, he shouldered his way into her room, brushing up against her, and turning around as she shut the door and faced him. "We need to talk Charlotte," he rasped quietly. His blue eyes flashed as they dragged lust down every inch of her body, before making the return trip to her eyes. The heat and hunger in his gaze left her breathless, and she quickly grasped the message.

This was not over...not by a longshot.

Charlie half-hated the giddy knot of anticipation she felt begin to thud in her gut. But as he stalked towards her, hunger and strain evident in the feral glint of his eyes and the sharp lines of his face, she found it fairly simple to reconcile herself to the situation.

Oh hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bass has some thoughts from the night before...and the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're not seeing things, this is an update -- I'm beyond sorry this took so long! My life has been pretty crazy for the last 9-10 months, as real life writing has rapidly increased, alongside my full-time job. I want to thank everyone for their comments and inquiries, letting me know how much they wanted to see more of this story, especially Chelley, who's never given up on getting to read this update, and the Charloe Book Club gals for being so awesome and fun. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> We get to see Bass's POV of their night (he's quite confused, angry, and lusting after Charlie) and my Bass muse really wanted to analyze things a bit longer than I planned, so along with Charloe thoughts, there's twisty history about Riles here. I hope it doesn't seem too repetitive, I'm feeling rusty once more and a bit unsure, plus my smut-shyness is cropping up again, so I'm off to hide...

When Bass first woke, he felt like he'd swallowed a distillery, which wasn't that strange of a sensation, really. He could tell from the darkness of the room that it must have been relatively early in the morning. He felt heavy and raw as if he'd gone 10 rounds with some New Vegas brawler, before drinking his weight in swill whiskey. A lazy hand went to swipe against the piece of fabric itching his cheek, but instead his fingers tangled in hair. Much more awake now, he assessed his situation; he was weighted down by a soft, feminine form draped across his muscled frame. He lay there appreciating the curvy body flush against him as his inner teenager was cheering that even as drunk as he'd been, he'd still gotten lucky. Wanting to see who was in his arms, he stretched his neck and slowly opened his eyes, squinting through the vague, early morning light, and angled his head away from the woman's mop of hair to see her face.

And what a face it was. 

Charlotte Matheson.

She was in his bed, in his arms. He'd slept with Charlotte Matheson and she hadn't left, was nestled contentedly against him.

She was quite happily ensconced in his arms, resting her head on his chest, breath puffing against his skin. Now that he was awake, her exhalations were creating some interesting sensations, skittering across his skin, goosepimpling the flesh, and sending interesting messages down south. His arms tightened in reaction and she mewled quietly, moving even closer against his side. Charlotte did not appear worried in the least about who was holding her, instead she was snuggled up to him as close as she could get. Trustingly.

Bass couldn't stop staring at her, still completely shocked about the situation, and if he was truthful, a little bit in awe. Since she was still sleeping, he was going to take his time to study her features and enjoy having her with him. When they were with the rest of their group, he avoided staring at her, lest he earn a beat-down and a bullet from Miles or the crazy-eyes and a screwdriver from Rachel. Gritting his teeth in annoyance when thinking of her relatives, he forced thoughts of them from his head, deciding he'd contemplate that clusterfuck later, when he didn't have Charlotte in bed with him.

For as long as it was just the two of them, he would savor every second of this.

She was so beautiful.

Last night had been unexpected. But not unwelcome.

His eyes voraciously swept her features, cataloging everything for later. The early morning sunrise had created an orange glow as it brightened the room, casting a luminous tint to her bare skin and fire to her tousled hair. He had a good view of most of her face, as it lay tipped against his chest, her breath still coming in repetitive soft pulses against his throat.

Memories from the night before flashed through his mind.

_Tipping her backwards onto the bed and following her down, covering her with his body._

_The soft mewls of need she released with every thrust of his hips._

_Heavy breathing filling the air._

_The sound the bed made as he moved inside her._

He groaned slightly, forcing away the urge to squirm as he hardened, not helped any by his thoughts or the feel of her body. But he managed, not wanting the peace of the moment to end. Bass didn't know how she would react to waking up with him, but he could hazard a guess that she would likely have a few regrets.

Well, he'd just have to take care of those.

A slow smile creased his face as he thought of all the ways he could overcome any of her arguments.

Bass hadn't expected this, though he'd wanted it -- holy hell, how he'd wanted it, almost from the first second he'd seen the lovely woman she'd grown into -- he'd just never expected to get here with her. He'd rubbed himself raw to thoughts of what she'd look like moaning beneath him, eyes scrunched with pleasure or riding him with wild hair streaming around them. And while he'd wanted her physically from the start, his emotional attachment was surprising in its intensity.

It started with her serving as a ticket to Miles, he'd needed to find him and Charlotte knew where he was. Plus, she was the man's niece and he knew his brother loved her. Bass had felt responsible for her, wanting to protect her in their travels together. Figuring he owed Miles, he did his best to watch over her, knowing his brother loved her. Bass had felt responsible for her, wanting to protect her in their travels together. As time passed and they'd grown used to each other's company, they'd forged a partnership, almost always pairing off when they needed to fight. Bass trusted her to have his back and amazingly, she'd grown to trust him in return. He could see it in her eyes; he'd never have believed it possible otherwise. He admired her; she was a fierce fighter, always ready to do what was necessary and willing to learn. She was brave and loyal, and somehow still...good, in this horrible world they lived in.

And Bass wanted to protect that, protect her, and hoped she'd never lose that quality.

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from her to focus on the peeling ceiling paint. He would never deserve her, but God, did he want to try and earn her. 

Charlotte moaned quietly in her sleep, shaking his wandering thoughts. She shivered against him, muttering disconsolately, and Bass tightened his hold on her, brushing kisses against her forehead. He didn't know what she was dreaming, but he didn't think it was happy from the sound of the sad little whimpers she was releasing, which hushed when he whispered to her. Rubbing his hands up and down her back, he gentled her and soothed her with his touch and the soft croon of his voice. Eventually she settled quietly against him once more, whatever nightmare she was experiencing having passed.

She looked so innocent like this, so trusting. It was starkly different than her behavior when awake and around her family. He wasn't sure how much of that was actually real or just a front she put on to protect herself. Bass didn't think Charlotte let very many people see her true feelings. Her trust was hard to earn, but even then, she didn't really let you in, always afraid the person would leave. He'd been slowly working his way through that, whittling his way past her barriers, not realizing until it was too late that Charlotte was in his blood, and she'd been doing the very same with him.

He wanted this woman, in any way he could have her, for as long as she'd take him. He could drown in her.

The thought wasn't nearly as frightening as it should have been.

She moved against him, right arm sliding against his pec and wrist curving at his shoulder. Bass could just make out the circular edge of the Monroe-Matheson brand on her inner wrist. He felt a tug in his gut at the sight of it on her skin, that loathsome bit of him taking a deep, possessive satisfaction in knowing she was permanently marked by him. He was hit with a memory of him tonguing and sucking the scarred flesh repeatedly, wanting to feel the mark under his tongue. Bass couldn't get away from it, but there would always be a part of him that reveled in the fact that Charlotte was marked by him, would permanently carry a connection to him for the rest of her life. He knew he should feel guilty, and a part of him did for the pain it had caused her, he just couldn't shake the pleasure that coursed through him whenever he saw it on her skin.

It was twisted, he knew that. No matter what happened between them, there would always be a bit of him embedded in her.

As the sun rose, Bass noticed the less permanent marks he'd left on her flesh in his desperate need to claim. Charlotte's lips were bruised and her skin was a light pink where his facial hair had scalded against the dermis. He couldn't resist his lips from quirking at the sight of a dark bite on her shoulder, possessive arousal flaring in his gut. He knew she'd marked him as well -- he could feel her bites and scrapes all down his torso.

_Tongues dueling, bruising her mouth, as he pinched her nipples, stopping just shy of pain._

_Rubbing his beard into the skin of her neck and chest until it was pink, all the while sucking bruises into the delicate skin._

_Reveling in her earthy moans as he slid cock against feminine folds, nudging at her clit, before slamming to cervix on the first thrust._

_Biting her shoulder to stifle the noise he made when she clamped around him and he came deep inside her._

Bass worked to force the arousal down, gnawing at his bruised lip until he'd mastered himself with a precision he'd learned from years of being a marine. It would hold. Charlotte looked so comfortable and content sleeping against him -- there would be plenty of time for pleasure later.

He'd make sure of it.

\----

When Bass slowly came to consciousness the second time, he could tell by the light from behind the ratty window shade that some time had passed since his earlier awakening. Charlotte wasn't in his arms anymore; she must have switched position. He had a raging erection and was thankful and lucky most of the effects of his hangover had dissipated, considering the amount of liquor he'd imbibed the previous evening. He couldn't wait to roll over and bury himself in her luscious body.

He reached out, wanting to pull Charlotte against his body, already envisioning the persuasion he'd use to talk her into a morning romp, and the pleasant way he'd work through his hard-on. Smiling lazily, he stretched out a muscled arm, fingers rustling the cotton as his nerves tingled for the brush of soft skin, but he only encountered cold sheets and the edge of the mattress, not a warm, sleeping woman. That roused him completely and sitting up, he quickly canvassed the room. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen, and all of her belongings were gone. He was alone. She'd run out on him.

Annoyed, Bass fell back against the pillows with a huff. If he wasn't so pissed and beyond horny, he would've smiled at her gumption. He wasn't that surprised she'd run after waking up next to him. Charlotte had been drunk when the flirting had started, inhibitions almost non-existent. Combining that with what she'd overheard between Rachel and Miles the previous evening, provided the only reasons she'd likely gone to bed with him. There'd been something between them, some underlying spark -- an awareness in her eyes as they watched him -- but she'd never acted on it and likely would have continued ignoring any lust she felt for him until she was pushed past the edge of caring. Upon waking, she'd obviously been shocked at her bedmate and hightailed it out of there.

This was a new situation for him; Bass had always been the one who bailed first, or when he'd been head of the Republic, simply told his evening company to leave. It had been good between Charlotte and him. Oh, who was he kidding, it had been fucking fantastic, and it tweaked his ego that she'd run out on him -- and that she'd managed to get out of both the bed and the room without waking him. But still, his pride was miffed, he'd never had a woman sneak out after sex. He couldn't help the quirk of his lips that Charlotte would be the first, but dammit-all he was mad...and hard as a rock. There was so much more he wanted to do to her body. She had proven herself to be an adventurous hoyden in bed and when he'd finally dropped into exhaustion his dreams had been filled with ideas for a continuation in the morning.

It didn't decrease his ardor though, just made him want her more. If it had been any woman but her, he would have been convinced it was some kind of tactic to increase his interest. He knew it was arrogant and indicative of the kind of women he'd taken to his bed in recent years, but still, he was Sebastian Monroe. He'd never had a problem getting a woman into bed and keeping her there if that was what he'd wanted.

Until now apparently.

Charlotte was like fresh air after suffering years of imprisonment. She was everything he wanted and everything he believed he would never be able to have.

Before last night.

At turns she'd been hard-edged and sweet, voraciously demanding he give her everything he had. Charlotte had given all of herself in return, and had been nearly insatiable in her need of him. Burying himself inside Charlotte was like nothing else. He wanted to fill her again and again, leave her so exhausted she couldn't walk right for days. Bass smiled ruefully; he thought he had, but obviously not if she was able to get up and march out of his room without looking back. Bass figured she'd been shocked at her lack of restraint and fearing the repercussions she'd run.

Repercussions. His smile faded; his erection was a bit slower to subside, but it did eventually. Fucking Miles and Rachel.

When Miles had told him he didn't know where his son was, that it had all been a lie, Bass thought he could be forgiven for delivering that sucker-punch to his deceitful face. He had followed that up with a gut punch, and tackled his former best friend to the ground, wanting to bash his disloyal smirk. They'd fought dirty, grabbing whatever body parts they could as they wrestled on the grass outside their temporary headquarters. There had been none of the efficient finesse they'd learned as marines, just sheer brutality tearing into one another, years of anger bubbling forth. He was reasonably sure he'd even bit the man. Neither of them was winning -- although Miles had taken the worst of it -- but winning wasn't the goal, outright brawling, beating the other into submission, that was their aim.

So many lies and betrayals between them.

Just thinking about Miles lying about knowing the location of his kid made him clench his fists in anger. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his fingers through his hair as he surveyed the room. Bass knew he was partly to blame, having slept with Miles's fiancee Emma. It had been a shitty thing to do, but was a form of revenge in itself. They'd vied for girls all through their teenage years, at times almost permanently damaging their friendship. The first girl Bass had ever liked had been Gina Cortini, and even knowing how Bass felt about her, Miles had kissed her and asked her to a school dance. They hadn't spoken for five months after that. He'd pushed it aside for the sake of their friendship, but it had still always bugged him. Which was why when he saw the opportunity with Emma, he took it. He'd liked her as much as his best friend and the one night he'd shared with the woman, he'd been smashed. It didn't make it right, but it fit the course of friendship and competition between Miles and Bass.

That resentment and the fights it caused in their younger years had been nothing compared to the way they went at each other after the truth came out about his son. They would have been perfectly happy to continue grappling, only Charlie had broken them apart by throwing a pail of water on them. They'd been spluttering as she'd pushed between them, hands on his chest, demanding to know what had happened, her tone hard and questioning, but not filled with blame, and it had been that kindness that made Bass tell her. She deserved to know, and Charlotte had been shocked. She'd actually told him she was sorry as she suggested he take a walk to the bar in town, telling him she'd be along later. As he left, he couldn't resist the grim smile as he heard Charlotte reading Miles the riot act.

If there were two things Charlotte didn't like, it was dishonesty and betrayal.

And Bass found himself wondering for the dozenth time how Miles and Rachel didn't recognize that. Or had chosen to ignore it, assuming Charlotte loved her family so much she would just accept their lies and duplicity forever. They treated her like a child and while Miles was far better at recognizing her maturity than Rachel was, his former brother could still treat her like she was a dumb kid. It pissed her off and while she sucked the emotions down, Bass knew she didn't forget. She tried to let it go for the sake of her family and their little group, but it bothered her and had to come to a head eventually.

When she'd first checked on him in the bar, he'd flat out told her to leave him alone. Charlotte was persistent though and had quietly tried to get him to talk to her. He'd ignored her for the most part, calmly drinking alone with thoughts centered on Miles and his kid and the vileness of it all. The rage that had been building inside of him was poisonous...he hadn't wanted her there when it was released. He'd looked at Charlotte -- bitterness welling in him; he wanted this woman, but he knew how important family was to her -- so he'd told her there wasn't a place for her there with him, that she belonged back at the temporary headquarters with her family. Even after everything, he'd still been trying to look out for Miles, knowing how important his niece was too him. So he'd sent her away. It wasn't what he wanted, not at all. What he wanted was to assuage the pain, to pull her down onto his lap, and grind her into the aching erection he always sported and tried to hide in her presence. Instead, he looked at his drink and ignored her until she gave up and walked from the bar, presumably back to her uncle and mother.

Fucking Miles and Rachel.

It couldn't have been much later, 20-25 minutes maybe, when he felt a frisson tantalizing up his spine and even before he raised his head, Bass knew she was back. When they locked eyes, he could see the devastation and emptiness in those eyes of hers. While they were normally so vibrant, nearly spitting with determination, instead they were flat and betrayed, holding a wealth of misery. Charlotte was afloat, unsure, but underlying it all was a building rage that matched his own. That chilled Bass and he knew he needed to talk to her. Whatever had happened, she'd sought him out, looked for him first. She'd come to him. Jerking his head, he'd motioned her over to his table, grabbing another glass and filling it to the brim with local swill, while pushing out the chair next to him. The entire time, he didn't break his stare, letting her use him as an anchor as she made her way to his side.

At first she didn't say much, just threw some of her old insults. Her heart wasn't in it anymore, so he'd waited, taking small sips, waiting for the truth to spill. She moved onto battle tactics and what strategy they should use in their next encounters with the Patriots. That still wasn't the reason she'd sought him out and Bass could be patient when he needed to be, so he accepted it, hoping for the truth to eventually slide out amid the verbal bullshit. It had taken awhile, but eventually Charlotte had explained what she'd overheard back at the temporary headquarters between her mother and Miles. He wasn't surprised, shit like that had a way of always coming out at the worst possible moments. Bass had to admit to taking a bit of pleasure in knowing Miles had been knocked down a few pegs, and that fall was even sweeter since it was by his own actions.

They'd spent the evening lamenting Miles and Rachel for all their hypocrisy. Beyond his own hurt, he was disgusted with her mother and uncle. Why hadn't something like this been discussed immediately? It was bound to come out and cause Charlotte a massive amount of confusion and pain. They should have tried to give her an explanation. The fact that they hadn't, just showed how far Miles's strategic thinking had fallen in his epic lifelong quest to permanently bag his brother's wife. Had Miles been thinking with his big head, he would have assessed the situation, put it off for as long as he could during a battle situation, before finally pulling Charlotte aside and telling her their history.

But, his idiot best friend hadn't, and Charlotte had to come to Bass, world shattered...again.

They'd cracked open a third bottle and were well on their way to being smashed. They'd started flirting and if Bass was completely honest with himself, he was 90% sure he started it. But Charlotte had been receptive, returning his interest, and subtlety was swiftly thrown out the window. If he'd been sober, that would have been a clear sign that something was up and this probably wasn't such a good idea. But, drunk as he was, both his heads were screaming _fuck yes_ , so, he'd gone with it, upping the ante, until eventually the innuendo got so blatant, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her chair, throwing some diamonds on the table, and hauling her ass out of there.

So, Bass had fucked Miles's niece -- Rachel's daughter -- and it had been goddamn amazing.

It had started as just sex, a way to get some revenge on Miles and her mother, petty though it might have been. They'd worked their aggression out on each other, the sex nearly brutal in their mutual need to escape the edge of despair.

She'd helped him. He was sure she wasn't aware of it, but there it was just the same. He had been headed into a dark place. And than Charlotte came into the bar and forced him to think of another person's grief besides his own. All he'd wanted was to take that desolation out of her eyes.

Bass wasn't surprised he'd given into it. He'd wanted her since the swimming pool and that desire had only deepened the more time he spent with her.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Just tell the truth fucker._ He'd wanted her since Philadelphia, when she'd stood up to him and dared his man to shoot her, to hell with anything else. The plan had been to threaten only; Bass would never have allowed that monster to shoot the kids. He'd wanted to order everyone else out of the room, as he pushed Charlotte down onto that couch behind her, and ripped her clothes off. Bass had been so turned on with fantasies of what he'd do to her body, that he'd cut his visit with the kids short, lest he embarrass himself.

It wasn't just about sex now. Somehow Charlotte had managed to wriggle her way into his heart, becoming one of the few people on this awful planet he gave a crap about. He had become protective of her, choosing to fight by her side to ensure her welfare. That desire to protect her had grown into a near obsessional need to ensure her safety. After every attack, he found her, and the sight of those vibrant eyes was enough to calm even a crazed killer like him.

He had to track her down and figure out where her head was at in all of this. Plus, he needed to make himself scarce before the rest of the Matheson clan showed up on his doorstep. Bass knew she'd been running away from what she'd found out about Miles and her mother when she'd ended up with him. If he knew Miles (and after 40 years of friendship, rivalry, and warfare, Bass figured he knew him pretty damn well), the man would be on his way here soon, knowing it was the only rooming house in town. He planned on being long gone when that happened. Not only because he wasn't ready to face him because of his lies, but from what he could remember from the night before, the flirting and eventual kissing had been witnessed by all and sundry in the bar, before they'd made their escape. There was no way in hell he was ready to deal with that yet.

Although their faces when they heard would be fucking priceless.

Bass couldn't restrain the grin growing across his face as he thought about Rachel's reaction to finding out he'd spent the night with her daughter. While he truly cared for Charlotte, he had to admit if only to himself, there was something infinitely satisfying in knowing he'd slept with Rachel Matheson's 'little girl'. He shrugged, so he was a twisted bastard, it wasn't like he didn't already know. Thinking about the myriad ways she would plan his destruction, made it grow into a full fledged smile. She would be out for his head. Rachel hated him because of what had happened to Danny and he supposed Ben, but he wondered if she ever even thought about her dead husband anymore, she was so busy making goo-goo eyes at Miles. They were so obvious, the situation was begging for Charlotte to find out about their relationship. If they'd had any sense, they would have been up front with her from the beginning, about their affair, how Rachel came to be in their captivity, and Miles torturing her, long before Bass was ever allowed to get near the woman.

The torture and mind games had broken Rachel's mental health, but never her strength of will. It was one of the similarities she shared with her daughter, sheer gutsy determination. And while he had never been attracted to the mother, Bass spent nearly every bath jerking off over thoughts of Charlotte.

He'd been far kinder to Rachel than Miles had been before the man had left the Republic. If the choice had been his, Bass would've allowed her to leave the minute she told him what they wanted to know. Hell, he would have sent her back home with an escort just to rid himself of the woman. Rachel had always been trouble. He'd tried to explain this to Miles, but the man had never understood it. He'd gotten hooked on her near instantly and there was nothing Bass could do to stop the car crash from happening. It had gotten worse after the blackout, when they'd formed the militia, and the power had gone to their heads, poisoning their actions.

Once he had Rachel in his possession, Miles had felt like he'd finally gotten one up on Ben; there had been obsession in his eyes regarding her. He'd had no intention of ever letting her go, hence why Bass had faked her death. He didn't believe Miles had ever wanted Rachel to come clean, because than he might have had to face releasing her. He'd asked Miles about it when he'd first taken his sister-in-law captive, what he planned to do with her once they'd gotten the information out of the stubborn woman. The look on Miles's face had been pure confusion. He'd elaborated and Miles's had shutdown, finally responding that she would stay in Philadelphia with him. Bass had guessed since he finally had the woman he'd wanted for years, he could pay her back for choosing Ben over him, even though Miles had walked away first. His friend's mind was a strange place to be.

And they thought he was the sole monster of the Republic.

Whatever existed between the two of them was completely twisted. They'd been hung up on each other since they'd first met, while Rachel was engaged to Ben. Bass had been on the fence before the wedding, finally reasoning that breaking them up when they were engaged and angering his brother were far better options than screwing up a marriage. Miles had walked away, saying Rachel deserved better and that he hadn't wanted to hurt Ben, but the two of them had already completely screwed the man over, and Bass thought part of it was that underneath it all, Miles had recognized that Rachel had wanted to change him and he wasn't ready for that. Like she was doing now with all her sanctimonious bullshit.

So Rachel and Ben had gotten married, she'd popped out a couple kids and Miles and her had been fucking all the while behind Ben's back.

Rachel had gotten what she wanted from both men. Ben stimulated her brain and fulfilled the domestic part of her that wanted to impress her parents, while Miles met her physical needs and gave her a sense of adventure. Who knew if having just one of them would ever truly make her happy, after all Miles wasn't exactly an intellectual.

But then again, a happy Rachel Matheson was a frightening thought. Bass shuddered at the thought of her in a perpetually cheerful mood. It was easier picturing Miles giving up booze.

Rachel's mind moved in strange ways and he didn't believe for one second that Miles would be able to understand the woman. Besides, would she ever be able to really accept Miles's actions after the blackout? He knew they somehow managed to block out the terrible things they'd both done, but maybe that just showed they were meant for each other. She'd contributed to a global massacre when the power went out and Miles had helped slaughter the east coast years afterward. That would make for a balanced relationship.

Bass wondered what had happened to Miles that made him think it was perfectly all right to push all of their atrocious and murderous past off on him. He'd followed along that was damn sure, but he hadn't started the Republic, that had been Miles. When Miles had left him holding the proverbially bag, Bass had done the best he could, lost in the tsunami of betrayal and confusion that had inundated him. It had been awful and his hands were dripping with the blood of scores of people whose deaths he'd either directly or indirectly caused, but he hadn't been alone in the formation of the Republic.

He'd even tried to keep Miles away from Rachel in the beginning, sending him out on missions whenever he'd get that gleam in his eyes after he'd spent too much time with his captive. That wasn't to say Bass was innocent in what had happened with Rachel. Oh no, after Miles had betrayed and left him, Bass had taken his anger out on her, and ordered awful things done to the woman. After his best friend's desertion, he hadn't given a damn what happened to the manipulative bitch. He blamed her at least partially for Miles's actions, knowing how his friend would always get so twisted up whenever he spent time with his imprisoned sister-in-law. He'd turned to attaining electricity, thinking Miles would return if he had it, and lost himself in the violence of his insanity, taking a good part of it out on Rachel. He wasn't proud of the things he'd done in his pursuit of power, but even then, at his worse with Strausser interrogating and torturing her, Bass thought he might have let her go if she'd just given him the information he wanted.

Sighing, Bass stood from the bed and began his morning routine of stretches, something he'd learned in the marine corps to keep himself limber. He was wasting time ruminating on ancient history. It wouldn't help him with Charlotte. He needed a bath (although he didn't particularly want to wash the scent of her off his body) and a meal, before getting the hell out of this hick town, so he could find her.

Good mood restored, he went to order a bath and imagined the look on her face when he did locate the woman.

This would be fun.

\----

He ended up in a motel two miles from the safehouse he was banking on Charlotte using. He'd needed to do some reconnaissance, so he'd put out some feelers and had waited to hear back. He was taking the extra time to order his thoughts.

While finding Charlotte was his most important goal, Bass also needed to speak with one of the best fighters in this resistance, before he could bail on this horseshit town. The information hadn't been encouraging, at least for their northern cell of fighters. It had recently lost most of its top leadership and the soldiers were in disarray, needing someone to step up and lead the men. That group had been more ragged since the start: under-manned and with poor supply lines, they were begging for a firm hand to step in and streamline the situation. Needing to get away from Miles, Bass figured assuming command over that wing made sense for both practical and personal reasons. It served the purpose of getting him away from the man whose face he wanted to continually bash into mush, as well as giving leadership to the vital northern flank of their armed rebellion.

So why was he hesitating? 

That was easy. He didn't want to leave Charlotte behind. Bass wondered if she would be willing to join him.

Scoffing at himself, he raked a hand through his hair, curls springing up wildly beneath his fingers. He was being an idiot. There was no way Charlotte would want to go anywhere with him, let alone 100 miles away to a rag-tag mess of undisciplined fighters. She'd run out on him afterall.

Although she had come to him after overhearing truth between her mother and Miles. Charlotte had gone to bed with him willingly and had seemed content enough to sleep it off in his arms, so perhaps there was a chance she might be just as interested in getting away from her family as he was.

He'd been confident when he'd left the boardinghouse that morning, but after a full day of tracking Charlotte lost in his thoughts, he'd begun to doubt the situation. He knew what he wanted, but Bass wasn't sure she was ready to reciprocate.

And memories of their night together kept plaguing him, driving him to the edge with lust.

_Her legs spread wide allowing him to admire the glistening pink vulva between._

_Nipping and tonguing her clit until she writhed beneath his hands and begged him to stop._

_Holding her face down to the mattress as he pumped into her from behind._

_Sliding his hand beneath her, using the heel of his palm to push her to orgasm._

He paced his room, dick aching as he was inundated with images of the previous night. She had been a revelation, so open to trying anything he pushed her to, anger and competitiveness overlaying any nerves she might have felt at being so intimate with him.

It had been surprising to wake up with her in his arms. The night before, the anger was strangling him. He'd wanted the temporary oblivion booze provided. He hadn't thought himself in any mood for feminine company, but Bass rapidly changed his mind when Charlotte showed up in the bar. But still, it was definitely unplanned. His mind had been stuck on thoughts of his son and goddamn Miles, and these fucking Patriots that seemed to multiply like rabbits no matter how many of them they killed. He hadn't been looking to pick up a woman; hell, he hadn't been all that interested in female companionship lately.

Well, that wasn't exactly true, he conceded ruefully. He was always interested in the fairer sex, it was just recently, Bass was far more intrigued by one specific female and valued her particular brand of companionship over any others. He'd thought there were too many obstacles between them and she'd never return the sentiment, so Bass buried it as best he was able.

However, making himself bury the need he felt for the woman didn't change the fact that he wanted to bury himself inside her every wakeful moment of the day. He was damn near raw from having to jerk himself off all the time so he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of her with his near-constant state of arousal, which occurred any time he was in her vicinity.

But he still thought it would never happen.

Hence the reason he nearly chewed through his tongue when he saw Charlotte laying snug in his arms.

_Fuck._

Bass knew what he needed. He wanted more of Charlotte and he was going to get it.

But in the meantime, he needed to alleviate some of this lust, before it made him nuts. Groaning, Bass gave into the need riding him and undid the button and zipper of his pants. The release of confining material on his rampant erection was an immense relief. Pushing the trousers past his hips, Bass spit into the palm of his hand, before fisting his cock. Standing against the wall, he slumped into it, and let the arousing memories from the previous night flood him.

_Her sucking his fingers, before releasing the glistening digits so he could bury them in her pussy._

_Rolling over and shifting her above him, so she could ride his mouth, his eyes locked on her exultant face._

_Ramming into her as she clamped her wet muscles around his cock, forcing his release._

_Sharp teeth biting his shoulder as she came moaning his name._

He imagined Charlotte with him, watching him as he pleasured himself in front of her. Bass thought about putting on a show for her and then demanding one in return. His hand sped up at the idea of Charlotte masturbating in front of him. His other hand lowered to work his balls.

_Hands returning to her breasts, alternating between teasing swipes and bruising pinches of her nipples._

_The mewling noise she released every time he bottomed out inside her._

_Pulling his dick out of her still clenching core, only to drop to his knees to nip and lave at her hypersensitive clit._

_Forcing her into another orgasm, as she alternately begged him to stop and held his face against her sobbing in near-pain._

He thought about the different contortions he'd fold her body into, the way she'd beg and plead for him to fuck her. And Bass knew he'd never be able to say no to her, because anything she wanted of him, he'd give gladly. Fucking Mathesons tying him up in knots. Although he didn't mind it when Charlotte was the one doing it. But still, she made him crazy. Whether it was that dimpled smile and smart mouth or the wet clasp of her cunt and her fingernails embedded in his back. He could feel his balls pulling tight against him as he thought about dominating that lithe, curvy body again and again.

His other hand was working himself so hard he felt like he was nearly wrenching his dick off his body. Fucking Charlotte, driving him insane.

_Watching the sway of her breasts as she rode him, undulating against him._

_Flipping her over and jerking her body to him, as he slicked his cock against the furrow of her bottom before burying himself back in her pussy._

_The sound his balls made slapping against her skin every time he thrust into her._

_The surprised scream when he shoved his middle finger into her ass, pushing her over the edge once more._

Bass moaned at that particular memory. Surprisingly, Charlotte had enjoyed his bit of play with her lush bottom; he'd be sure and remember that for later. She had been open to anything he'd wanted. He hadn't known what to expect, but fuck, she'd enjoyed everything they'd done to each other, and while they'd fought for dominance in the beginning, she had eventually ceded it to him. She'd trusted Bass to know the best ways to work her over. To make her forget. Make them both forget and lose themselves in blessed oblivion.

_Sweet mouth sucking at his nipples, raking them with her teeth._

_Her eyes glittering as she took his still glistening cock into her mouth, moaning wantonly around him._

_Hands tangled in her hair as she laved and suckled his balls, drawing on them gently._

_Pulling back at the last second to cover her in his ejaculate, rubbing it into the skin of her breasts, their gazes meshed._

When Bass had come on her breasts, wanting to mark her, she'd been shocked by it. She hadn't complained though, not about anything they'd done together. Instead, her eyes had widened in fascination at the action. He worked himself harder as he fantasized about her on her back, knees pushed up and apart to splay wide at her sides, opening her to his gaze and framing that glistening vulva. Moaning softly, Bass's raging libido liked that idea and he decided the next time he got Charlotte Matheson alone, he was going to fold her into that very position, jerk himself off above her and cover that pretty pussy and rosebud with the white stripes of his come. That image alone brought him over the edge and Bass had to bite into bicep to muffle the roar of his orgasm. Ropes of semen filled his hand as he roughly wrung his pleasure from his aching dick.

As feeling returned to his extremities, Bass huffed in annoyance. Fuck. This woman was making him crazy. And the fact she'd run out on him, well, she was going to deserve a bit of punishment, but he could guarantee it would be a punishment she'd thoroughly enjoy. Maybe he'd pull her over his knees and spank her until the globes of her ass were a darkly flushed pink, before he'd fuck her hard from behind just to watch that blushing flesh jiggle as he pounded her into the mattress or whatever other surfaces they had available.

It was decided then, he'd find Charlotte, get her alone, and _convince_ her that after the night they'd shared, there was no way in hell it could only be a one-night thing. No fucking way. He'd tie her to his bed and keep her on the cusp of orgasm for days if he had to, but he'd have her again, and she'd be willing. Even if he had to play the emotional-revenge card on how much it would annoy Miles and her mother. He knew he wasn't above it, not if that's what it took to get Charlotte back into bed with him. Bass had almost always gotten what he wanted where women were concerned, and in this case, he was willing to play dirty.

He went into the bathroom to clean up again, washing his hands in the bowl and taking a rag to his body.

While a lot of his feelings for Charlotte were sexual, there was more to it than that, at least on his end. He enjoyed her company and simply being around her lent him an amazing feeling of being centered, something he'd been lacking for so long and in which he wanted to bask. There was protectiveness and trust and loyalty. Bass wasn't sure what he could offer her in return other than hot sex, but he'd try.

_The sighs of happiness she released as he stroked her spine, nerves still tingling._

_His cock softening inside her as he inhaled his scent on her skin._

_Her laying against him, releasing soft breaths against his throat, their commingling juices sticky between them._

_Legs entwining as they fell into an exhausted slumber._

There had been gentleness mixed in there as well. He'd held her securely and Charlotte had always wrapped herself tight around him. Listening to her breathing and feeling her pulse against his skin had provided him with such a feeling of contentment, brought him to a place he couldn't remember reaching for years.

When they'd finally collapsed from exhaustion, he'd held Charlotte tight to his chest, needing her in his arms, the feel of her against his skin. She hadn't realized it, but she had been a lifeline for him. Bass had been sinking into that morass of self-hatred and paranoia when she'd come to him in the bar. He didn't know where he would have gone or what he would have gotten into had she not found him drinking in the bar. His blood had been pounding in his veins, bile churning at the idea of what Miles had done, but underlying it all had been a fathomless desolation at another loss of family. Bass hadn't known the kid, but it felt like it had been snatched away from him, just like with Shelley and his baby. He hadn't felt such bottomless rage and despair since their deaths and he obviously remembered what had happened next, rolling his neck to try and take his mind off the butchery he'd perpetrated at Mile's behest on the neighboring village. He'd justified it at the time that a quick death was better than what Miles had wanted, a slow death by starvation or freezing to death. Maybe there was still truth in that, but it didn't erase the blood and gore that had coated him afterwards and followed him to this day.

That same empty abyss of rage had been facing him when he was sitting in that bar, his thoughts becoming increasingly dark, to the point he was teetering on the edge. Hence why he sent Charlotte away. He didn't want her around him when he got like this. They were right about him, he became a black-hole whenever his life was torn from him in blood and pain. Bass didn't know any other way of dealing with torment and he had planned to drink himself into a stupor, cutting her off. But then Charlotte had come back. To him.

No one that left him ever came back. Until her...and that sealed things for him.

So now, he'd track her down and sort the situation with her. Bass knew she was likely feeling off-kilter from what had occurred between them and Charlotte would still be reeling after overhearing some of her family's twisted history. He needed to get to her now, before she could erect enough barriers and start convincing herself it had been a mistake that didn't bear repeating.

No fucking way was he going without Charlotte again.

\----

When he'd walked into the lobby of the former bed and breakfast which was now serving as a safehouse, he'd drawn a lot of attention, as one of the men leading the resistance against the patriots was bound to do. Still it was annoying. Everyone had drawn to attention, and Bass couldn't help but be reminded of all the militia soldiers who'd paid him fealty in Philadelphia, believed in his ability to protect them, and paid for it by dying in the fires of Randall Flynn's nuclear bombs.

That reminder made him curt when he asked if Charlotte Matheson was staying there. Not wanting to upset him, the small group had nodded in the affirmative and given him a room number, telling him she was staying alone at the end of the complex, dispersing from around him as he made his way through their ranks.

As he shuffled down the hallway, Bass hardly knew what to expect of the situation. For the first time since puberty, he was unsure of what to say to a woman. He usually had no such problem, possessing a plethora of charm, and seducing them into his bed was quite easy. But this wasn't just any woman, this was Charlotte.

All too soon he arrived at her door and simply took one deep breath before knocking and waiting for a response. He knew she was in there, he had that tingling sensation in his spine he felt whenever she was near. But she was ignoring him. Well, that wouldn't do. Bass knocked again, more firmly than the first time and finally he could hear her stomping across the room in annoyance. He couldn't resist the small grin at that, but quickly steeled his features when she opened the door.

She was shocked to see him, he could tell, but he didn't give her any time to think about shutting the door in his face, as he slipped right on by her, brushing up against her as he did so. Turning to face her, he felt the lust thrumming through him at being this close to her again.

"We need to talk Charlotte," he gritted out softly as she closed the door.

As he walked towards her, he could feel the surprise and panic rolling off her, and that might have been enough to draw him up short, had it not been for her eyes sweeping his body, as her tongue peeked out of that gorgeous mouth to wet her lips. He pulled even with her, took the sword from her hand, and dropped it to the ground, before using his body to push her up against the door, resting his hips against hers.

He lifted his hand to trace his fingers along her collarbones, before securing it in her hair at the base of her head. He could see her throat moving as she swallowed hard at the contact and Bass took pleasure in the sight of the marks he'd left on the soft skin. Dipping his head, he kissed the spot just beneath her ear, receiving a small whine for his efforts.

"I thought," she started to whisper, only to stop when he licked her ear lobe in a gentle swipe, before licking a path down the side of her neck. Bass focused on one of the lighter marks, laving it before nipping and than sucking the skin into his mouth. He listened to Charlotte moan as he scraped his teeth against the newly darkened bruise, before leaning back to admire his handiwork.

Bass laid gentle kisses against the tendons of her throat, hands coming to hold her where ribs curved into breasts, thumbs just brushing against them with the lightest touch. He could feel the rapid pulse thrumming against his mouth and Bass released a soft breath against the saliva-dampened skin, making her shiver against him.

Charlotte spoke up again, finally managing to finish her previous sentence. "I thought you said we needed to talk."

"I did," he grated out, grinding his hips into hers gently, causing her to whimper. He nipped lines into her throat, satisfaction streaking through him as he renewed the red marks of the night before and created vivid new ones as well.

"Okay," she whispered, gulping hard, as his lips worked their way down to the tops of her breasts, sucking sweet kisses into the flesh. "Let's talk."

Bass growled in frustration, pulling back to pierce her eyes with the equally blue gaze of his own orbs, as his hands dropped to her belt closure, slowly working the leather open. Once it was unlatched, he thumbed open the button and edged the zipper down, all the while keeping his eyes on her. She made no move to stop him, only watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as his hand rested low on her abdomen. His pulse skittered as they breathed into one another, the tiniest of spaces separating their lips. As his fingers trailed along her stomach, before delving into the newly opened fabric and resting over her underwear on her mound, he leaned forward even further, until their lips just brushed each other. They stood that way for a few seconds, not moving, simply eyeing each other.

Unable to wait any longer, Bass outlined her lips with his tongue, and shoved her underwear to the side, cupping her drenched heat with the palm of his hand. She nearly collapsed at the sudden movement and Bass tightened the hold of his free arm, moving it down to cup her ass firmly, nearly too tight, knowing he was likely adding to her collection of bruises. She began to rub herself on him and he chuckled low in his throat. "It'll have to be later, Charlotte, we're going to be very busy," he rasped as he mouthed along her jaw. His fingers were gently grazing against her, his touch teasing, as he ran his tongue along her ear and sucked at it. He growled, his only warning, before simultaneously biting the lobe and shoving two fingers fully inside her.

Charlotte keened as her nails latched into his shoulders through his shirt.

She was dripping and Bass groaned, nearly coming in his pants at the knowledge that the moisture coating his fingers would be a combination of her own juices and the remnants of the semen he'd left inside her.

"Later," he growled, reminding.

Her only response was a whimper and a harried nod, her thoughts obviously tripping towards completion, a traveling hand cupping him through his jeans.

His fingers began to move, and she whined and writhed against his hand. Smiling against her lips, Bass pinched her clit, sending her hurtling over the edge into orgasm. Lifting his head, his eyes glinted with satisfaction and arousal as he watched her lost in pleasure.

"Much later," he whispered before slanting his mouth along hers and feeding her his tongue.

_The tomorrow kind of later._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it lived up to expectations! There should be two more chapters of this fic eventually, and I think everyone can guess what comes next. Let me know what you thought and if you want more... ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **Comments are wonderful...I'm addicted to them and I love hearing from you!**


End file.
